


He Needs My Time

by Entwife_Incognito



Category: The Mentalist
Genre: Communication, Episode Tag, Episode: s06e20 Il Tavolo Bianco, F/M, Friendship/Love, Romance, smutty smut smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-25
Updated: 2016-11-25
Packaged: 2018-09-01 21:06:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,344
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8638051
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Entwife_Incognito/pseuds/Entwife_Incognito
Summary: A tag to 620 'Il Tavolo Bianco.' Teresa realizes she gives Patrick no time to say what's on his mind. Pike is always there. She has to make time for her best friend. A best friend would want Patrick to have that much. Lisbon's POV, then Jane's, then both. 3 chapters. Disclaimer: The Mentalist? Don't own it.Originally posted at FFnet on May 6, 2014. Now here with refining edits to improve readability.





	1. He Needs My Time

I want to settle in with Marcus and watch baseball, but my mind won't leave Jane with his cannoli on my porch. Or Ilsa's dilemma in Casablanca.  


My conscience prickles and I can't get comfortable on the sofa. Or Marcus. How can I expect Jane to talk to me when he can never catch me alone?  


Why does Marcus have to be with me every spare moment? He says he understands that Jane and I have things to work out. He knows for sure now that I'm trying to choose between them. But he gives me no space at all. No pressure, my ass. He's rounding me up like a stray heifer.  


Jane is my friend. He deserves my time, too. Especially if he has things he needs to say to me. I need to make sure he has that time.  


My faces scrunches in distaste. No way is Marcus getting Jane's cannoli.  


Marcus says, "I know you're upset, Teresa. How can I help?"  


I turn to look at him with my best doe eyes. "Would you mind . . . I mean, Jane is my best friend. He needs me right now . . . my time. Alone."  


I know Marcus doesn't like to hear who my best friend is. But it's the truth, and I need him to back off a little. He's not happy, but he doesn't make a fuss, thank goodness. He rode home with me, so I call a taxi while he gets into street clothes. Thanks and kisses at the door, I turn out the porch light as soon as he gets to the cab.  


Waiting for him to leave, the minutes heave by like my sobbing breath. This feeling . . . it's sadness . . . and I've had it so long, it's made me numb and cruel.  


I text Jane. _Are you ready for cannoli, now?_  


_Be right there._ That was fast . . .  


It can't be thirty seconds until there's a soft knock at my door. I smile through the tears that spring to my eyes. He's been sitting at the curb all this time. He's seen Marcus leave. And now I'm caught with my feelings on display. I don't feel like hiding them anymore. It's exhausting.  


He steps in quickly when I open the door and sweeps me into his arms, desperately holding me. My crying is loud. But so is his. He kisses both my cheeks and I wedge my head under his chin, clinging tighter.  


Finally, we let go and both try to talk at once.  


"No, let me," he says.  


I nod and wipe my eyes.  


"I'm so grateful for your time."  


This stabs my heart and I break down again. "Jane, no. I'm sorry. You're my best friend. You need my time. I want you to have it. How can we talk if you don't have, at least, my time?"  


His mouth sets in a soft line and he barely nods. He knows the truth when he hears it.  


He declines wine or tea and we sit on the couch together, slanted, our knees nearly touching, to face one another.  


"Teresa. I do want you to be happy. I don't want you to be bored in D.C."  


Bored? I sniffle and clear my throat because he's not finished and I want him to be able to say everything. Whatever it is.  


The puffy, red rims give the color of his eyes a mystical shine through his tears. Curls fall on his forehead, so sexy they fuck me without touch, a hot stab in my core. His lips are working at control and I can't help wondering how it would feel if they were working on me.  


He breaks the spell by looking into these eyes that want him, and I can tell when he sees it. It arrests him for a few moments, the lights in his eyes darting around my face in surprise.  


I take his hand and press his fingers, encouraging him to go on. A little gasp and he looks at my hand, a new surprise.  


His words rush out as if a spell will be broken. "I want you to be happy with me. Not bored with Pike in D.C."  


Relief is a desert wind that washes from me, dry and sere, promising rain to cool my thirst. "I'd like to be happy with you. You've never said it before. Happy how?"  


His wide flat lips part a little and I can see the tips of his teeth as he makes a confused little croaking noise in his throat, staring at me.  


I smile. I want to know this answer more than anything.  


"By being together. I mean really together. Because I love you. I love you, Teresa. And I want you to stay. For me. With me. And let me be the man in your life. I know I can make you happy. In every way." He licks his lips as he fixes his gaze on my face.  


He's thinking about sex with me. I know he's gauging my pupil size, watching my mouth. He glances to my neck. My pulse must look like a small frog trying to escape. Is he ever going to kiss me?  


Maybe I need to say something.  


"I've needed to hear you say that. You don't know how much, Jane. I want you . . . I need you. You're my happy life, Patrick. But since you would never say . . . I, well, I had to assume you just thought of me as a friend. So I had to try to move on. I want more than friendship in my life. I think I can _have_ more."  


"Do you love him?"  


I've been trying so hard to be in love with Marcus, I'm ashamed how Jane's question brings the truth crashing to my shoulders. "No." And falls to the ground with a loud 'clunk.' "Nor does he love me. Yet." Who am I fooling? "We're . . . comfortable. He tells me he can take it or leave it—whether I go to D.C. or stay. It does sound like the recipe for . . . boring." Certainly not a love relationship. My face feels hot, embarrassed what I will settle for.  


"Take you or leave you?" His eyes are confused, uncomprehending.  


It makes me feel good.  


"Lisbon. Pike is why you would be bored there. You're heart's not with him."  


"You're right. It's not. It's with you. You're who I love. You're who I want. And I want to be the woman in your life. I love you. No matter what I do, I'll never be over you. But I . . . wanted to have a chance . . . for love . . . for a family . . . everything."  


"Of course you do. You deserve these things . . . and more." His radiant smile is warm and inviting. As he leans toward me, I know I'm getting my old Patrick back. The one who is sure of his place by my side. Who can laugh at me and tease me and is titillated by my irritation. I miss him so much!  


When he gathers me close, I fall against him and lift my face to be kissed. He's already there, his breath feathering my nostrils and cheeks, looking in wonder at what he's about to do. What I want him to do. In the next moment, his cushiony lips are on mine and I respond in heat. Grip his neck and make his head turn into mine. Lick his lips to invite him in.  


We never stop touching each other from that point, as clothes start to peel away. His first nosing of my still-fastened breasts makes me rise and press them in his face for more. He tugs down my bra cups and flesh pops loose, straining for his attention. His mouth covers them quickly, all tongue and lips, sucking and licking, even nipping me . . . into full-blown desire.  


I want him. Fast. He's out of his shirt, so I start on his pants, opening them, so curious about what's there, how he's made. When I reach in, he says my name and juts his hips, placing himself in my hands and at my mercy. I stop kissing so I can really look him over and his fingers do the work of his mouth on my breasts.  


So firm. So satiny. He's rigid and probably a little too large for me. His flesh excites me enough that I want him in me, right now! I fill my hand with the shaft and pet the head with my other hand. He gasps and lays me down, removing my pants and underwear.  


His curls humid from his own heat, they coil and bounce as he kneels over me, placing my feet against his chest. He presses enough to make my knees bend, forcing the exposure of my core to his hungry eyes. As soon as he sees it, he presses my legs wide apart, opening me. Both of us are dripping moisture. His eyes flick up for permission to use his mouth and I reply by moaning, "yes," and scoot closer.  


From the moment his warm mouth closes on me, he is relentless. His wide tongue covers me completely as he licks until I make begging noises. In goes the tongue, shoving deep and writhing all the way, the soft hairs of his beard teasing me. He sets a finger to my clit and pets it like a purring cat. When I come I can't see or hear myself, I'm so far gone. But when I return, he is at my mouth again, his short beard full of my scent, moaning it into my groaning breath.  


He enters me a little. His thigh muscles are springs, poised in tension to be released for the fucking of my life. I whisper to his ear, "Fuck me. Please. Let me know it's you. I want you."  


Like a bolt from a crossbow, he's in me, rutting like a beast. No one has ever been so desperate to fill me. I'm stretched so wide I think my clit curls inside with every one of his entering strokes. The head of his dick, fat and hot, massages the bottom of my rejoicing flesh as it desperately tries to get a grip on him.  


He finds a place that makes me wild, and has to lift his hips so I can ride him from underneath, bent onto him so perfectly he stops moving, giving me free rein and grunting to hold back as long as he can. When I scream and seal my throbbing flesh to his, I feel the warmth as he shoots until we're dripping. Our first orgasms are so powerful we can't stop moving our flesh together, and then our breath finally drains into silence.  


He pulls me close and I bite his nipple, just a little, then tongue it to soothe him after he hisses. When he dips his head to kiss me, I feel the love and gratitude that we share for each other. I will never let go of him. He's mine and he will stay that way forever.  


He nips my jaw and then my ear lobe before croaking into my ear, "Mine. You're mine, Teresa. I'll never leave you."  


"I don't want you to."  


I can't be like this with Marcus. He wants me feminine and kind of passive, excited by what he does to me. Climbing him? Positioning him? Turning my sexual nature loose? It might even disgust him. Jane relishes it, makes room for it to happen.  


I put my panties back on and he, his shorts and I get the bag he brought, handing it to him. Let him begin again.  


He brings out the sweet dessert, a fat tube of cannoli, stuffed to the ends and sealed with tiny confections, decorated with colorful icing along the top. When he holds it to my mouth, I open wide and crunch down, filling my mouth with cream and sugar and crispy shell, licking my lips clean as he watches, licking his own.  


Then I take the cannoli and feed him a bite. My eyes go big as his wide, sensual mouth opens and bites an inch and a half. Cream is all over his lips, squeezing out the corners as he fills his tongue with it. I want him so bad, I'm jealous of cannoli cream, and I have to clean his lips for him. I grab his shoulder and pull him forward for the sloppiest kiss I've ever had, full of whatever is mashed in his mouth, feeding myself on him. He is all creamy sweetness and I leap into his lap to get enough purchase to run my tongue along his teeth, inside his cheeks, lifting his dessert for myself and humming its goodness.  


By this time he's hard again and I put my dirty mouth on the head of his love-sticky cock, coating him and eating him at the same time. He huffs and leans back as I do my best to take him entirely into my mouth. But he keeps growing.  


He's pinching my nipples so fiercely, it goes straight to my clit. I rub it with my finger to take some of the pressure off and try to mount him. But he catches me with his hand, breaches the edge of my panties and shimmies two fingers into me, rubbing a place that nearly makes me cry when my nipples try to explode. He rakes my panties off with the other hand.  


He turns me to hang halfway off the couch, drops his shorts and gets on his knees behind me, spreading me open and lifting me a little before he plunges in. I howl- doggie-style joke- and he pulls out, afraid he's hurt me. I shake my head and shake my tail at him. He bends and bites my fanny for scaring him and I turn, my eyes afire and tell him to fuck me!  


When he slides into me again, we both moan. I lose track of what he's doing, he's putting so many squiggles and wiggles into it. No warning, my whole insides contract and I groan with the strain. In the next second my knees are braced against the couch and I'm shoving myself onto him as hard and as fast as I can go. He's got me by the waist giving me an assist by pulling me back, augmenting my thrusts until I freeze against him, an orgasm rising from my depths as I jack my hips up and down on the massive cock he's working inside me. He shouts and seals himself into me, grunting and coming as my muscles squeeze the hell out of his cock, greedy for every drop.  


When we collapse, it's on the carpet, muscles loose and breath coming in from downtown it's so desperate, hard and deep. He cups my breasts, massaging gently and toying with the nipples until we drop off.  


We awake stiff and sore, managing to get ourselves upright. I want him in my bed where I know he'll sleep and I'll be sated in his arms. He's so happy when I ask him, he scoops me up for a kiss.  


"Shower together in the morning?" I say.  


"Sounds perfect."  


So we tumble into bed and snuggle close, sticky everywhere and smelling of fresh love. Before I slip away, I hear, "What are you going to tell Pike?"  


"'No.' He won't mind, as long as I tell him yes or no. 'No.'"  


Patrick pulls me into his arms and I know nothing.


	2. I Need Her Time

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was thinking it would be fun to hear Jane's side of things. When Tony suggested it, I decided to give it a go. Thanks, Tony.

Lisbon hadn't said she had a date with Pike tonight. Stupid me, thinking dinner together was enough. Maybe they spend all their free time together now. He certainly seems at home in his undershirt and pajama pants. There's no word for how deep my heart fell when he opened her door and called for her. A real slap from reality. I don't know what I babbled in order to get off that porch. My sacrifice, no doubt. Her happiness.  


I'm a pathetic third wheel. Why would a woman like Lisbon want me? She knows me. Knows what I am. Women like that don't want men like me for lovers and husbands.  


It's just that after our wonderful dinner . . .  


We talked about so many things. We seemed to find each other again. Warmed by wine and smiles, I hadn't felt so good with her in . . . too many months. Years?  


It's a whim. An exuberance carried into the night. It makes me happy to think of cannoli from our restaurant as a sweet gift to share. Made especially for us by the owner. We can talk some more. I'm not finished. I need her time.  


I'm a fool to assume she would be alone. A woman like that with a boyfriend. She'll never spend another day alone for the rest of her life, if she chooses. I just want it to be with me. I should give up, but somehow . . . I just can't.  


Pike will know I'm a chump when Lisbon comes in with my cannoli to share with him. What can I do? They are for her. If I can't share them with her, I don't want them anymore.  


Grief weighs me down so deep I can hardly feel my body, much less drive home. So I sit in my car until my senses can return. I'm too numb to cry or pound the steering wheel.  


A taxi pulls into her driveway. What's with all the taxis in Lisbon's life these days?  


In the corner of my eye a light brightens, almost flashes in my slow state. When I turn my head, the porch light is out and I see Pike get into the taxi and ride off. After being in Lisbon's living room, wearing his night clothes?  


She's decided to spend the night without either of us. Weak and needy, I wonder if she'll have a quick sneak with me. I crave the comfort of her body. In our present state, the thought proves my insanity. Her inside lights stay on and I wonder what she's doing.  


In a few minutes the porch light flips on again, right before my phone buzzes a text, jolting me. It's Lisbon! She's asking me to come back for cannoli. I say yes as fast as I can move my thumbs.  


As I scramble out of the car, I wonder if anybody has ever cried over cannoli before. Like I am now. I wipe my face before I knock.  


Her smile is knowing and giving. I'm so quick to the door she knows I've been out there the whole time. She just doesn't know why. Maybe she does.  


I don't care. I rush to take her in my arms, squeezing the life out of her, but she does the same! She clings tight and we're both crying, loud.  


Her cheeks are cooled by tears where I kiss them and she burrows her head under my chin. My whole body is vibrating!  


I tell her how grateful I am to have her time and she starts crying again. She says I'm her best friend, of course I can have her time!  


I want to cry again but I hold it and wipe my face.  


We sit on the couch and I tell her everything. I love her. I want to be her man. I know I can make her happy.  


She doesn't wait. She says she's been wanting to hear me say these words from my heart. She tells me right away that she loves me and wants to be my woman. She keeps staring at my face and hair, her eyes dark as a moonless night in the forest. The eyes that want me. I look into them as long as I dare before my sanity goes.  


She says something incomprehensible about Pike being able to take her or leave her.  


I want a kiss. I want to make love. I want her writhing in my arms. When I lean in, she moves her face close for a kiss and I am lost.  


She throws demure and tender out the window. Her dormant lust flows out and it's for me! Her kisses are hot and demanding, licking my lips open so our mouths can ravage each other as she holds my head in place with her strong little hands.  


I start removing our clothes, whatever I can get off while still touching her. Her breasts squeeze together in her bra to make plump cleavage I must delve. The scent of her skin entices me. She's giving off pheromones in waves of heat and I submit, nosing them with pressing kisses. It excites her and she rises up to cradle them to my face.  


I'm dizzy . . . all the blood seems to have left my head. When I pop her breasts from the bra, they point in fullness, trussed forward by the rest of the garment. I devour them. Her flesh is soft and full, nipples pink and pointing at my tongue. I attack them like soft cake, nibbing them to hear her squeak as her pleasure pushes them into my face again.  


She's opening my pants. I almost come right there. But her delicate fingers reach in and I can't stop watching them until I feel them wrap me and caress the head of my dick. This can't wait!  


I lay her down and get the rest of her clothes off. I take a minute, hoping to slow our pace, pulling her legs up and resting her feet on my chest. Then I lean on them and open her bright pink vulva. It's wet and swollen, begging for me. All I want is to get my mouth on it, eat it like ice cream or pink cherry pudding. She scoots closer and moans yes.  


She's warm and I fill my mouth with her, licking, with a finger massaging her clit. Her scent fills my nostrils, her taste fills my mouth and her wonderful juices coat my beard. She's starting to beg for my cock, but I fill her with my tongue. So petite inside. I'll have to be careful with her. She comes and I pull my tongue out of her crushing core and move to her mouth as she cries out ecstasy.  


My balls are about to explode. This is lust in overdrive. I have to fuck her but I don't know how she wants it. I'm guessing, hard, from how she's acting, but I want to be sure so I don't hurt her. I slip the head of my dick just in. Her heat is total and I want to come right there. But I hold on till she gives me the word. "Fuck me," she says. "Let me know it's you."  


Christ! I enter her fast, but I don't have to push hard because she's so wet. I give it to her long and full, rubbing the bottom of her sheath every stroke. Her muscles are going crazy inside. I'm so big for her that they haven't figured out how to grip yet, just ripple all over me, and it's heaven. Teresa!  


She gives a little scream every time I push in, but it's passion not pain. I can tell by the building crescendo of her moaning. I have to lift my hips so that she can snake me, her hips free. Now _I_ want to scream and I'm sure it will be a death rattle. When she comes, she's piercing, my name on the crest of her voice, calling high. And I follow her. All I want is her. She's mine. I know I've made her mine and I'll never let her go. I fill her with jet after jet, flooding her until she's dripping.  


She's so untamed! Nipping me and saying I'm hers and she'll never let me go. My ecstasy now has nothing to do with sex.  


When we cool down, we put on our underwear. Well, no bra for her and when she gets up I watch the beautiful globes that gave me so much pleasure bounce in counterpoint to the swing of her hips. I want to tackle her and ravage her from behind while holding those glorious boobs.  


She returns from the kitchen with my cannoli, still in the bag. I know it's stupid but I'm so grateful she didn't let Pike have any. She pulls one out and I take it from her, hold it to her mouth and watch her roughened lips open, bare her little white teeth and bite a nice piece off. Crunching, chewing, pushing the dense fluff around in her mouth. Her cream-covered tongue pokes out to clean her lips and leaves them messier instead. I want her mouth.  


She takes the cannoli from me and brings it to my mouth and I bite as big as I can hold. Cream is everywhere, spilling out the corners of my mouth. And she is climbing on me, licking me clean, forcing me to open my mouth and stealing it from my teeth.  


I'm hard and thinking how to take her next when she goes down on me, smearing cream from her mouth, licking it off and humming all the while. I don't want to come in her mouth. I want back in that tight hot wet. She tries to mount me, but I slip two fingers in her and find a spot that reddens her face and makes her writhe. I pull her panties off, stand up and drop my shorts. All I can think of is getting in her. I want to make her moan and come and know it's me.  


Lifting her by the waist, I place her easily, bent over the couch and her knees on the floor.  


Her ass is full and the cheeks symmetrical, spread to let me see her sex below, messy and wet. When I push into her, she howls. My stomach drops and I'm afraid I've hurt her, so I pull out. But she laughs sass at me and wags her tail. A doggie-style joke. I nip her butt. That puts fire in her eyes and she turns her head to give me a baleful glare and say, "Fuck me," again. It's a thrill to hear words like that from Lisbon's mouth.  


I can get so deep into her this way. She feels like soaking hot velvet and makes me so happy that I'm dancing in and out of her until she groans, lifts up and strains tight. I feel her muscles bear down on me. They seem to have my number now.  


She raises that ass, braces her knees against the couch and uses the force to meet me when I push into her. Soon we're really slamming into each other and she's moving fast. The friction is intense. I'm melting into her and I want to go until my transformation is complete. When she backs up and jacks her hips on me, my balls bunch up and I shoot a pool of hot me into her, screaming release. Her pussy is squeezing me like a pro, holding on and milking every drop.  


When we fall on the carpet together, we sound like spent racehorses. It takes a long time to get normal. My mind drifts. I can't imagine Lisbon with Pike this way. Lisbon's sexual nature is a powerhouse, something unmanageable, even frightening for some men. Pike seems like a one powerhouse per couple kind of guy. And it wouldn't be the woman. Her job would be to be excited by what he does to her.  


I doze with my hands full of her soft breasts. I must be smiling.  


She kisses me awake, soft fragile things that are meant to treasure me. I'm her treasure. It's sappy, but I sigh happily.  


She groans as she gets up from the floor and I'm glad she's first. I don't want to be the stiff old man here. Let her be the creaky old woman. I snicker, my eyes still shut and she toes my chest to make me move. I groan and grab my back.  


"Mnn-hmm, " she says as if she knows something.  


"It's just a sore muscle. You gave me the workout of a decade."  


"Complaints? And I wanted you in my bed."  


I grin and get up with a few grunts and then scoop her up for a kiss.  


She's so easy with it. When I put her down, she gives me a sly look and says, "Shower together in the morning?"  


When I say, "Sounds perfect," her smile is wide and natural, no guile or caution.  


She leads me to her bedroom and turns the covers down. The sheets are white, crisp and clean. I sigh as I lay my head on the pillow and snuggle in with her. This is what my life is supposed to be. Together. With Teresa. Sharing a life and a bed. My life is made.  


But there's a little bridge to cross. I fill my hand with Teresa's hair and smooth it off her shoulders to keep her cool. I have to ask her. I want to know before I can feel it's safe to sleep. "What are you going to tell Pike?"  


After a sleepy moan and a lithesome naked stretch, something I will always enjoy the sight of, she snuggles her head into her pillow. "'No.'"  


I start to say, "What?"  


"He said he won't mind, as long as I tell him yes or no. 'No.'"  


She's a saucy mess and I love her. We're both sticky with cream and sugar, sticky with the juices of love. It's the best night of my new life. I pull her close and wrap her in my arms. She wiggles a little to make us fit better. And we drop off to sleep.


	3. We Have Time

I wake first. It's already daylight.  


His hair is stiff and squashed in places. All the curls seem to be standing in loops and gallops on the top of his head.  


He's on his side and snuffling a little. I'm not sure why I find this so charming that I want to kiss him. Maybe it's his pale morning skin with the slight blush on his cheek. His lips a little dry. The golden half-moon of his eyelash.  


That's where I decide to start -- the delicate, slightly bluish skin of his eyelid. I drop feathery kisses there, like the ones from last night that made him smile. Like he felt adored. Well, he is.  


_She's treasuring me again and it feels as good as those soft kisses from last night. I open my eye and take in the expression on her face. Fond. It's in her eyes and her smile. I could wake to Teresa's fondness every day for the rest of my life. And I hope I will._  


_I slide my hand to her shoulder and around the back, putting pressure for her to come closer, and she does. She has a crust of cannoli cream on her upper lip and it's pale yellow now. When she kisses me, I take the opportunity to clean it off, still sweet. She gasps when she feels my tongue._  


_"I don't feel like showering yet," she says, pressing against me._  


_I feel the fullness of her breasts and the excited nipples tickle my chest._  


_"Me neither." I kiss her some more, move to her neck and near her ear._  


_She shivers and sighs._  


_I don't know what she's up for. "Do you mind old love?"_  


_"Are you trying to tell me you've been lying about your age?"_  


_I love when she teases me. "Maybe you're more familiar with dirty love."_  


_"Now, that I know. Sounds hot. Can it still be tender and sweet?"_  


_"No other way before stirring from bed in the morning."_  


His hands rove my hips and he slips both around me to take a cheek in each one and pull me to him, jutting his hips a little and tucking me to feel his hard on. The hair on our bodies down there prickles and mingles.  


Nothing is hurried but all is want.  


I stop kissing his mouth and move down his neck, down his chest to his nipples. He's sensitive there but I won't bite him. I want him to have tender, too. They're so tiny, but so responsive, hardening like tiny BBs as I lick. I suck them to try to get them to stand like mine. It doesn't work like that, but he sighs and his hips get restless.  


He starts a slow, easy rhythm, rocking his male flesh against me. I feel him get harder and harder. Sometimes he dips his hips and rides against me a little.  


"You feel good," I whisper as I pet his side and slide my hand around his hip to the top of his ass.  


He cradles my breasts one at a time, thumbing the nipples so lightly I can barely feel it. But I feel it. He's draws little moans from my throat.  


When he bends to kiss my nipples, he's open to me and I put a finger gently on his cock. It jumps a little and a satisfying rumble sounds from his chest. I pet him all over and then take him in hand. He groans my name. I hold him in one hand and keep petting with the other.  


_She gets me ready with her hands. I'm so ready. We start kissing again. When I move my fingers between her legs, she opens them more, inviting me and gives a little cry when I find her clitoris. Such a sensitive woman. I tease the tip and massage the flesh around it, making it stiffen and beg as her legs tremble._  


_Her arms are on my shoulders and she uses her hold to tilt her hips up. She's wanting me inside her now, so I hover over her, nudge her legs further apart with my knees and look into her dreamy eyes._  


_They roll up as I enter her, then seek me out as I adjust myself inside, feeling all the luscious heat. How I fill her makes her pant, even as still as I am. There's a little whine to her breath that turns to relief as I begin to move._  


_She's hot liquid silk under pressure. "You feel wonderful, Teresa."_  


_Everything is languid. Her hips roll with me like soft waves hitting the shore. I experiment and find an angle that makes her thrust and grind against me. And another that makes her open her legs wider, undulating with me as I draw her like tides, in and out._  


_I choose the latter angle and work her into a quiet panting torpor that flushes her throat and neck, then washes to her chest and breasts. She is glory unawares._  


_I kiss her and whisper into her ear to come back to me. When she does, I bow my back so I can work in her and nibble her breasts at the same time. It makes her body jerk and utter a sound of surprise like hiccups every time it hits her._  


_When she begins to moan I press deeper and I feel her tighten around me._  


I can't remember the last time sex made me lose consciousness. My torpor clears to a dream. I'm rocking in a little boat on the sea, sunburned and hot when I awaken to a crown of golden curls drifting above me as the waves hold us in their arms like a mother.  


There are points in my body that are aroused and about to ring like a bell. It's Patrick over me, and his eyes are shut tight, his lips parting at the start of ecstasy. He nibbles my breasts one last time and opens his eyes, speaking with what he moves inside me.  


Then he says, "Now . . .? " and I nod as the climax blossoms from my core and takes over my body, squeezing him inside and shaking me. He lets out a long sigh and then softly groans in the rhythm of release.  


I make him stay with me a little longer than he wants to. We're sweating, oily and sticky from hours of love. It's time to scrub each other clean.  


_The shower is an unhurried adventure against the wall, but it's easy because she's small, light and agile, clinging like a monkey._  


_She laughs afterwards and says, "It's all good, isn't it?"_  


_I look at her in hurt wonder. "Why did we ever let things go so wrong?"  
_

_"I can't think about that now. May never want to think about it. Because it's right. Now, it's right."_  


_She makes so much sense._  


_We towel each other off, dry each other's hair. She throws on clean underwear. Lovely to watch her trussed breasts, alive and swelling from all that white lace. I wrap a towel around my waist and go to the kitchen to put the kettle on._  


_"Do you want me to throw your shorts and shirt into this load of laundry?"_  


_Yeah. I do. Forever and ever._  


_She winks at me as she walks by, heading to the washer. I pop some bread in the toaster, start her coffee and fish for butter and jam in the fridge._  


_This is the life I want, tender and sweet, wild and passionate, enjoying what we do together._  


A life with Marcus is already sedate, designed and restrictive. My life as a good little pet . . . that's not fair, but it helps my conscience in the moment . . . pining for the man I love. For the man who can't get enough of me.  


Patrick is digging in the fridge. He has the bread and butter out, so I know toast is on the menu.  


"Strawberry preserves for me," I call as I pass him with a load of laundry.  


"Strawberry, it is!"  


I love how he wants to please me. And how when I'm happy, when he makes me happy, Patrick is a happy man.


End file.
